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by Rose_of_Pollux



Series: Inktober for Writers 2018: Hurt/Comfort edition [12]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 19:04:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16310924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_of_Pollux/pseuds/Rose_of_Pollux
Summary: Part 1 of 3.  Napoleon finds himself in the center of a new THRUSH plot as Illya struggles to find him.





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Napoleon’s head was so light. When was the last time he had eaten anything? A week? Two? It was part of a grand THRUSH experiment—since Napoleon had proven immune to hypnosis and other kinds of brainwashing, THRUSH was determined to find a way to control him—even if it meant weakening him to a shell of his former self.

His captors had instructed that he receive absolutely no food—just water, and the underlings gleefully obeyed orders, eager to see the famously strong-willed Napoleon Solo crumble at last.

But Napoleon wasn’t about to give them the satisfaction. He refused to beg for food; he laid on his cot defiantly, in spite of how hungry and weak he was becoming.

_I probably look like a skinny wreck of a string bean. I wonder what Illya would say if he saw me now…_

Thinking about Illya caused his heart to twist. Napoleon’s capture had been orchestrated from the inside, which was why all trackers and distress signals had been removed from him before being carried off to the THRUSH lab. There was no way to contact Illya—and, anyway was Illya even alive after the mole had gotten through with him?

_What happened to you, Tovarisch? I need you…_

He sunk into despair. Even if Illya was alive, there was no way he’d able to find him in time to stop the experiment. The idea that Napoleon would be fully brainwashed by the time Illya arrived—assuming he was even going to arrive—was one that the American could not stand.

He had no idea, of course, that Illya was alive, and desperately trying to find him. There were no clues and nothing to go on—this particular batch of THRUSHies had been clever and methodical about covering their tracks.

But that wasn’t about to dissuade Illya. He scoured every corner of where Napoleon had been last seen, and had the top forensics experts in U.N.C.L.E. to do the same. But not even they could come up with an answer.

“We’re sorry, Mr. Kuryakin,” one of them said. “But there is no feasible way to determine where they took Mr. Solo. If it’s true what the rumors say that Mr. Solo was taken for an experiment in brainwashing, well… We might as well write him off as a loss, then, if you ask me.”

“I did _not_ ask you!” Illya quipped.

He shooed the so-called “experts” off, being left alone with his thoughts.

 _Napoleon, forgive me for not stopping this from happening. But, I vow to you, I will not rest until I find you_.

He would find Napoleon—no matter what.


End file.
